


the violence caused such silence

by ElasticElla



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Gen, Mild Gore, Resurrection, Soft Horror, Unreliable Narrator, bi babes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 13:09:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19357678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticElla/pseuds/ElasticElla
Summary: A laugh twisted into a sob breaks past her throat, as she tries, “I heard a rumor that you’re alive.”And just like that, he is.





	the violence caused such silence

It was supposed to be a typical mission. Luther was leading, Klaus was getting high in the back room, Diego’s knives were whipping around corners, and Ben taking care of the rest. She was interrogating the guy who seemed to be in charge, important enough to stay conscious. Interrogating is a harsh word when it only takes a sentence to get someone to spill all of their secrets, but it also sounds more badass. 

There’s hostages in the next building, and Ben goes alone first. Allison thinks her stomach was already in knots then- scouting out places became so much more risky after Five disappeared. 

Screams are followed by silence, and Allison rushes into the building ignoring Luther’s yells to wait. Bile rushes up her throat at the sight that awaits her- bodies torn to bits, blood everywhere, indiscernible chunks of flesh. 

“No, no, no,” she murmurs, walking to the one nearly whole body- the entire midsection gone. 

It’s Ben. 

Her brother’s- oh god, Ben is- he’s not, he can’t be. Tears stream down her face, throat too thick to say anything, and the others must have followed her in. She knows they’re talking, can’t hear them over the roaring in her ears. Over the look of fear etched in Ben’s eyes forever. 

Diego pulls her outside, and the further away they get, the easier it is to hear him. “I-it’ll be o-okay. D-Dad will s-sa-s-save him.” 

But Diego can’t speak reality into being, and their Dad can’t save Ben. He doesn’t even try, and Allison’s never hated the old man so much. Or herself. What does she even know about her late brother? 

She knows he always has his nose buried in a book, that he prefers nectarines to peaches because he doesn’t like the fuzzy skin. She knows he was closest with Five before he disappeared. She knows he was afraid of his powers, once asked if she could rumor them away. (Allison didn’t even have a chance to answer in the stunned silence, their Dad popping out of no where and lecturing Ben all afternoon about appreciating his gifts and his obligation to save the world.)

She knows he _was_. And the past tense hits her all over again, grief overwhelming. 

.

Allison is the last one at the funeral. It’s open casket, Reginald saying some bullshit about them needing to see with their eyes what mistakes cost. As if losing a brother wasn’t sufficient motivation for his precious Umbrella Academy. (Diego’s been talking about leaving, Klaus gone most nights, even Vanya saying something about her violin. The Academy is done, it can’t-)

“I wish you were here,” Allison says, fingers brushing over Ben’s forehead. His eyes are closed now, and if she doesn’t look down, he could be sleeping. Wouldn’t be out of place in the library, stacks of books around him. 

A laugh twisted into a sob breaks past her throat, as she tries, “I heard a rumor that you’re alive.” 

And just like that, he is. 

The gaping hole in his stomach is gone, his chest trembles with breath. His eyes flash an icy green before going back to normal, and it matters not- he’s alive, Ben’s _alive_. Allison wraps her arms around him tight, can’t believe it, all relief and joy. 

“Oh we have to get the others, they’ll be so happy-” 

“No,” Ben interrupts, swallows and stands up. “Dad can’t- he can’t know okay?” 

Allison laughs, disbelieving, “Ben we have to tell them, everyone’s been a mess without you. You don’t understand how much you mean to them- I can’t, I can’t keep that from them.” 

The fear goes back into Ben’s eyes, and Allison hates it, can’t let it stay. “You have to. I can’t be Number Six anymore, I can’t die again.” 

“Of course,” Allison demurs. He’ll change his mind in a week or so, and they’ll tell the others then. Maybe not their Dad. 

He’s alive, that’s what matters. 

(And maybe a greedy piece of her likes being the only one that knows.)

.

Ben refuses to go in the house, and Allison refuses to let him go off on his own. He’s much more paranoid now, not that she can blame him. Death haunts him, and Allison can’t make herself ask about that day, constantly touching his shoulders to reassure herself that he’s really there. 

He seems almost numb to living, only feeling the bad, and Allison sets about changing that. 

_I heard a rumor that we have two first class tickets to Las Vegas._  
_I heard a rumor that we rented the penthouse for a year, paid in full._  
_I heard a rumor that you’re the best chef in the world._  
_I heard a rumor that you gave us these clothes for free._  
_I heard a rumor that you covered our bar tab._  
_I heard a rumor that this museum has all my brother’s favorite paintings._  
_I heard a rumor that you won’t remember us._  
_I heard a rumor that it’s a beautiful day._

.

Ben doesn’t sleep. 

Allison doesn’t notice at first. They have bedrooms at opposite ends of the penthouse, and her brother often brings people home. While she’s happy for his post-death game, she really doesn’t need the details. 

One morning, around three or four- before the sun, Allison’s wide awake in bed. Cramps are tightening in her lower abdomen, and her period’s probably starting up next week, ugh. (She’d rumor it away again, but there’s only so many times she can do that before it’s an actual issue. And _gross_ she doesn’t want that kind of problem again.)

Blearily, she gets up, stumbling into the kitchenette. She’ll get a glass of water, maybe an advil, and- 

Ben is sitting perfectly still on the couch, staring at the blank television screen. 

“Ben? Buddy, you okay?” 

He blinks once, turns to her, “Yes.” 

She sits next to him, taking his clammy hand, “Bad dreams?” 

He cocks his head, an odd almost smile on his lips, “I don’t dream anymore.” 

“Oh. I’m sorry?” 

Ben shrugs, “I like being awake better.” 

“Mhmm, that’s- wait, are you not sleeping?”

“I don’t need to.” 

A drop of sweat rolls down her back, a primal reaction- she’s not- this is _Ben_. It’s because she had a weird dream, it’s a weird hour, and this room has weird vibes. 

“I am… happier.” 

Allison relaxes instantly, smiling at his words, “Good. I’m glad.” 

(It’s normal enough, for them. Diego can hold his breath forever, ignoring bodily functions isn’t new for their family. That’s all it is.)

.

Ben’s on his seventh glass of water when Allison asks, “Do you want to visit the ocean?” 

Ben goes completely still for a blink, reminding her of Mom- a peculiar comparison. “I haven’t summoned them since…” 

“Oh! No, I didn’t mean- I mean, if you want to? I was just thinking a day at the beach.” 

His smile is brittle, “Maybe next week.” 

“Sure, yeah. Pizza for dinner? We can even get your disgusting pineapple on it.” 

Ben laughs loudly, and they set about making a most ridiculous order for two people. (‘Oo, look they have sweet and sour wings.’ ‘Cheesy bread!’ ‘That’s literally pizza without the sauce.’ ‘Whatever, we’re getting some.’ ‘…and the molten lava cake.’)

.

It takes longer for her to realize Ben isn’t eating. 

Once she notices, she can’t unsee it, the signs all the more blatant. He’s quick to push food around, to do the dishes, probably fills a napkin of food up. 

He hasn’t lost any weight, nor energy, and Allison has a nasty feeling it’s related to the undead business. The not sleeping business too. 

At least he’s staying hydrated, she thinks, near-hysterical. He’s drinking so much water, it’s a miracle he isn’t living in the bathroom. 

For now, she’ll simply keep an eye on him. Allison doesn’t need Ben running away from her too.

.

They go out to the desert instead of the ocean, get high and dance until they’re exhausted, fall on the sand. Ben isn’t even breathing hard, probably collapsed out of sympathy like the nice brother he is. 

“What was it like?” Allison finally asks, blames the mix of powders running through her system for daring to ask. 

Ben doesn’t need her to clarify. He stares up at the stars for a long time, long enough that she thinks he won’t answer. Long enough that the shame of asking comes and goes, that she can enjoy being in the moment once more. 

“Nothingness. In a way that’s impossible to conceptualize because you have to think about it. It was like before you’re born, the edge of an abyss.” 

“You’ve been reading Nietzsche again,” she accuses. 

Ben laughs, “Maybe.” 

.

The next time they go dancing is at a club, filled with drunk college students. It’s weird to consider: if it wasn’t for their powers, this could be them. All of them, Five would still be-

Allison orders another shot of Jack, even pays for it. Ben’s clearly enjoying himself here, they may want to return some day. He’s in the middle of four people, and all of them look like they’d be happy to stab the other three. 

She shakes her head and orders another shot. She’s clearly been hanging out with Diego too much for that kind of thought. Guilt comes back, bitter and sticky beneath her tongue. They still don’t know. 

There’s a payphone outside, visible from the entrance. She should call home, at least let them know she’s okay. If not- anything else. 

Allison orders another shot of Jack instead, chasing the guilt down. 

A pretty girl sits next to her, tastes like coconut and tequila and plastic, tastes like an escape. 

. 

They’re both reading in a park one afternoon; Allison a script she’s considering trying out for and Ben reading _Our Sister Killjoy_. She almost wants to make a joke about Vanya, but it’d be cruel to bring up the siblings he can’t see again. 

She reads through the script three times, making increasingly detailed notes in the margins. When she looks back at Ben’s book, it hasn’t turned a page, his eyes fixed. 

“Really enjoying that page 94 huh?” she teases. 

“95,” he corrects absently. “ _The only way to get your good pork is to tear the heart out of the chest of a squealing pig – the louder he squeals, the better the pork._ ” 

“Will you eat if we get a squealing pig?” Allison asks, half serious. 

He blinks up at her, smile slowly unfurling. “No need.” 

And after that, Ben doesn’t bother pretending to eat with her.

.

Ben’s different, but he can’t be blamed for death changing him. 

She could. 

Maybe if she’d put more thought into how she worded the rumor, if she hadn’t been distraught- maybe she should try a second one. But no, too much could go wrong and she’s not gambling with Ben’s life.

He’s happy; that matters more than whatever odd quirks he’s picked up. 

.

Allison finds him reading another book, _Elegies_ , eyes stuck on another page. This one looking to be the very first, and she can’t help an amused smile as she sits beside him. 

“Don’t you get bored of the same lines over and over again?” 

“You’re the wannabe actress,” Ben says, and laughter cracks out of her. 

“Uh huh, let’s hear it then.” 

“ _For words you had only those green affirmations with their consonants, whose shape of fear on your mouth I so admire, your face trembling faintly in the dark fringe of your lashes._ ” 

“Don’t you want to get to the end? How can you stop there?”

Ben shrugs, “That’s not the point.” 

Allison remembers a young Ben tearing through their library, insisting on reading every book front to back. Reading as quickly as he could, because there was always more. She’s afraid to ask what changed, already has an answer she doesn’t want. 

.

For the most infinitesimal bit of time, Allison thinks she walked in on her brother doing something insanely kinky. Cheeks hot and an apology on her lips, she turned away- and then sees two corpses beneath the window. 

There are suction marks all over the exposed skin, and bile roiling through her stomach, she turns back. The tentacles are away again, the look on his face the same as the one time him and Five got caught sneaking out of the house. The third body is completely gone, and Allison tries not to think about how she’s never seen her brother’s conquests leave. 

She thought she was just waking up late. 

(Did she? Did she _really_?)

A terrible idea occurs to her as she stumbles backwards, back hitting the doorframe. “You’re not him. You never were.” 

“Of course I-” 

“Squealing pigs,” she recalls, heartbeat thudding in her ears. 

“I don’t torture them,” he says flatly, walking her out to the living room. 

“How can you- how can you do this?” 

“We’ve all killed Alli.” 

“But in cold blood…” 

He sighs, “Over the years, almost all of Klaus’s dealers have overdosed. Almost like they were told to do it.” 

Allison freezes, wonders how long he’s known, but Ben plows on. “They were bad people, and I need to eat. I can’t- I can’t die again Alli.” 

“You’re not going to,” she says, softening, and put like that, it’s simple. 

“C’mere,” she adds, wrapping him up in a hug. They’ll figure it out, no more bad things are allowed to happen to her brother.

**Author's Note:**

> title from the cranberries' zombie because my sense of humor is still like That  
> there's a companion piece ~~in the works i'm doing for fanflash from the horror's perspective, that'll be posted separately on the first~~ posted [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19442449)
> 
> the two texts quoted are ama ata aidoo's our sister killjoy & jean grosjean's elegies (waldrop translation) \o/


End file.
